In Search of the Castaways: New Zealand

Chapter X

A Momentous Interview

An unfathomable gulf twenty-five miles long, and
twenty miles broad was produced, but long before historic times, by the
falling in of caverns among the trachytic lavas of the center of the
island. And these waters falling from the surrounding heights have taken
possession of this vast basin. The gulf has become a lake, but it is also
an abyss, and no lead-line has yet sounded its depths.

Such is the wondrous lake of Taupo, lying 1,250 feet above the level of
the sea, and in view of an amphitheater of mountains 2,400 feet high. On
the west are rocky peaks of great size; on the north lofty summits
clothed with low trees; on the east a broad beach with a road track, and
covered with pumice stones, which shimmer through the leafy screen of the
bushes; on the southern side rise volcanic cones behind a forest flat.
Such is the majestic frame that incloses this vast sheet of water whose
roaring tempests rival the cyclones of Ocean.

The whole region boils like an immense cauldron hung over subterranean
fires. The ground vibrates from the agitation of the central furnace. Hot
springs filter out everywhere. The crust of the earth cracks in great
rifts like a cake, too quickly baked.

About a quarter of a mile off, on a craggy spur of the mountain stood a
"pah," or Maori fortress. The prisoners, whose feet and hands were
liberated, were landed one by one, and conducted into it by the warriors.
The path which led up to the intrenchment, lay across fields of
"phormium" and a grove of beautiful trees, the "kaikateas" with
persistent leaves and red berries; "dracænas australis," the "ti-trees"
of the natives, whose crown is a graceful counterpart of the
cabbage-palm, and "huious," which are used to give a black dye to cloth.
Large doves with metallic sheen on their plumage, and a world of
starlings with reddish carmeles, flew away at the approach of the
natives.

After a rather circuitous walk, Glenarvan and his party arrived at the
"pah."

The fortress was defended by an outer inclosure of strong palisades,
fifteen feet high; a second line of stakes; then a fence composed of
osiers, with loop-holes, inclosed the inner space, that is the plateau of
the "pah," on which were erected the Maori buildings, and about forty
huts arranged symmetrically.

When the captives approached they were horror-struck at the sight of the
heads which adorned the posts of the inner circle. Lady Helena and Mary
Grant turned away their eyes more with disgust than with terror. These
heads were those of hostile chiefs who had fallen in battle, and whose
bodies had served to feed the conquerors. The geographer recognized that
it was so, from their eye sockets being hollow and deprived of eye-balls.

Glenarvan and his companions had taken in all this scene at a glance.
They stood near an empty house, waiting the pleasure of the chief, and
exposed to the abuse of a crowd of old crones. This troop of harpies
surrounded them, shaking their fists, howling and vociferating. Some
English words that escaped their coarse mouths left no doubt that they
were clamoring for immediate vengeance.

In the midst of all these cries and threats, Lady Helena, tranquil to all
outward seeming, affected an indifference she was far from feeling. This
courageous woman made heroic efforts to restrain herself, lest she should
disturb Glenarvan’s coolness. Poor Mary Grant felt her heart sink within
her, and John Mangles stood by ready to die in her behalf. His companions
bore the deluge of invectives each according to his disposition; the
Major with utter indifference, Paganel with exasperation that increased
every moment.

Glenarvan, to spare Lady Helena the attacks of these witches, walked
straight up to Kai-Koumou, and pointing to the hideous group:

"Send them away," said he.

The Maori chief stared fixedly at his prisoner without speaking; and
then, with a nod, he silenced the noisy horde. Glenarvan bowed, as a sign
of thanks, and went slowly back to his place.

At this moment a hundred Maories were assembled in the "pah," old men,
full grown men, youths; the former were calm, but gloomy, awaiting the
orders of Kai-Koumou; the others gave themselves up to the most violent
sorrow, bewailing their parents and friends who had fallen in the late
engagements.

Kai-Koumou was the only one of all the chiefs that obeyed the call of
William Thompson, who had returned to the lake district, and he was the
first to announce to his tribe the defeat of the national insurrection,
beaten on the plains of the lower Waikato. Of the two hundred warriors
who, under his orders, hastened to the defence of the soil, one hundred
and fifty were missing on his return. Allowing for a number being made
prisoners by the invaders, how many must be lying on the field of battle,
never to return to the country of their ancestors!

This was the secret of the outburst of grief with which the tribe saluted
the arrival of Kai-Koumou. Up to that moment nothing had been known of
the last defeat, and the fatal news fell on them like a thunder clap.

Among the savages, sorrow is always manifested by physical signs; the
parents and friends of deceased warriors, the women especially, lacerated
their faces and shoulders with sharpened shells. The blood spurted out
and blended with their tears. Deep wounds denoted great despair. The
unhappy Maories, bleeding and excited, were hideous to look upon.

There was another serious element in their grief. Not only had they lost
the relative or friend they mourned, but his bones would be missing in
the family mausoleum. In the Maori religion the possession of these
relics is regarded as indispensable to the destinies of the future life;
not the perishable flesh, but the bones, which are collected with the
greatest care, cleaned, scraped, polished, even varnished, and then
deposited in the "oudoupa," that is the "house of glory." These tombs are
adorned with wooden statues, representing with perfect exactness the
tattoo of the deceased. But now their tombs would be left empty, the
religious rites would be unsolemnized, and the bones that escaped the
teeth of the wild dog would whiten without burial on the field of battle.

Then the sorrowful chorus redoubled. The menaces of the women were
intensified by the imprecations of the men against the Europeans. Abusive
epithets were lavished, the accompanying gestures became more violent.
The howl was about to end in brutal action.

Kai-Koumou, fearing that he might be overpowered by the fanatics of his
tribe, conducted his prisoners to a sacred place, on an abruptly raised
plateau at the other end of the "pah." This hut rested against a mound
elevated a hundred feet above it, which formed the steep outer buttress
of the entrenchment. In this "Ware-Atoua," sacred house, the priests or
arikis taught the Maories about a Triune God, father, son, and bird, or
spirit. The large, well constructed hut, contained the sacred and choice
food which Maoui-Ranga-Rangui eats by the mouths of his priests.

In this place, and safe for the moment from the frenzied natives, the
captives lay down on the flax mats. Lady Helena was quite exhausted, her
moral energies prostrate, and she fell helpless into her husband’s arms.

Glenarvan pressed her to his bosom and said:

"Courage, my dear Helena; Heaven will not forsake us!"

Robert was scarcely in when he jumped on Wilson’s shoulders, and squeezed
his head through a crevice left between the roof and the walls, from
which chaplets of amulets were hung. From that elevation he could see the
whole extent of the "pah," and as far as Kai-Koumou’s house.

"They are all crowding round the chief," said he softly. "They are
throwing their arms about. . . . They are howling. . . . . Kai-Koumou is
trying to speak."

"Evidently," said the Major, "this chief has a personal interest in
protecting us. He wants to exchange his prisoners for some chiefs of his
tribe! But will his warriors consent?"

"Yes! . . . They are listening. . . . . They have dispersed, some are
gone into their huts. . . . The others have left the intrenchment."

"Are you sure?" said the Major.

"Yes, Mr. McNabbs," replied Robert, "Kai-Koumou is left alone with the
warriors of his canoe. . . . . Oh! one of them is coming up here. . . .
."

"Come down, Robert," said Glenarvan.

At this moment, Lady Helena who had risen, seized her husband’s arm.

"Edward," she said in a resolute tone, "neither Mary Grant nor I must
fall into the hands of these savages alive!"

And so saying, she handed Glenarvan a loaded revolver.

"Fire-arm!" exclaimed Glenarvan, with flashing eyes.

"Yes! the Maories do not search their prisoners. But, Edward, this is for
us, not for them."

Glenarvan slipped the revolver under his coat; at the same moment the mat
at the entrance was raised, and a native entered.

He motioned to the prisoners to follow him. Glenarvan and the rest walked
across the "pah" and stopped before Kai-Koumou. He was surrounded by the
principal warriors of his tribe, and among them the Maori whose canoe
joined that of the Kai-Koumou at the confluence of Pohainhenna, on the
Waikato. He was a man about forty years of age, powerfully built and of
fierce and cruel aspect. His name was Kara-Tete, meaning "the irascible"
in the native tongue. Kai-Koumou treated him with a certain tone of
respect, and by the fineness of his tattoo, it was easy to perceive that
Kara-Tete held a lofty position in the tribe, but a keen observer would
have guessed the feeling of rivalry that existed between these two
chiefs. The Major observed that the influence of Kara-Tete gave umbrage
to Kai-Koumou. They both ruled the Waikato tribes, and were equal in
authority. During this interview Kai-Koumou smiled, but his eyes betrayed
a deep-seated enmity.

Kai-Koumou interrogated Glenarvan.

"You are English?" said he.

"Yes," replied Glenarvan, unhesitatingly, as his nationality would
facilitate the exchange.

"And your companions?" said Kai-Koumou.

"My companions are English like myself. We are shipwrecked travelers, but
it may be important to state that we have taken no part in the war."

"They were wrong!" said Glenarvan, quietly. "I say so, because I think
it, not because I am in your power."

"Listen," said Kai-Koumou, "the Tohonga, the chief priest of Noui-Atoua
has fallen into the hands of your brethren; he is a prisoner among the
Pakekas. Our deity has commanded us to ransom him. For my own part, I
would rather have torn out your heart, I would have stuck your head, and
those of your companions, on the posts of that palisade. But Noui-Atoua
has spoken."

As he uttered these words, Kai-Koumou, who till now had been quite
unmoved, trembled with rage, and his features expressed intense ferocity.

Then after a few minutes’ interval he proceeded more calmly.

"Do you think the English will exchange you for our Tohonga?"

Glenarvan hesitated, all the while watching the Maori chief.

"I do not know," said he, after a moment of silence.

"Speak," returned Kai-Koumou, "is your life worth that of our Tohonga?"